


A Very Gundam Thanksgiving

by Noelleian



Series: A Very Gundam Series [1]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Holidays, Humor, Multi, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-28 17:03:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8454592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noelleian/pseuds/Noelleian
Summary: The former pilots and their loved ones come together to celebrate Thanksgiving at Trowa and Quatre's Massachusetts home. Chaotic it may be, but there's never a dull moment when the gang's all here.





	1. Early Birds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. I've literally been waiting over 8 months to repost this thing and the time has come. xD It's being re-edited as the chapters go up since this was my first published fanfic so I fixed some mistakes and improved a few things. It's a cracky, light-hearted, and fun piece and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. ^.^
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything but this goofy little story, so please don't sue.

The dawn of Thanksgiving morning in the historical town of Salem, Massachusetts was frigid, but unusually peaceful. Frost clung to every nook and cranny, covering resting vehicles, creeping along the edges of oak and maple-paned windows, and encompassing every blade of grass. The tiny ice crystals sparkled in the growing light of the rising sun that lit the sky in breathtaking hues of orange, pink, and red.

Dead leaves were scattered all around the countryside and surrounding forest. A few still clung stubbornly to the mostly barren trees that were interspersed with weeping, age-old spruces. In their looming shadows, squirrels, chipmunks, and other vermin scurried along the landscape, gathering up the acorns for their suppers, and twigs and leaves to insulate their nests. And right on cue, the first of the early birds roused and began to serenade the start of a new day.

Situated among a large clearing was an expansive estate. Its architecture reflected that of the many beautiful homes and businesses that were common for the rich classical ambiance of the northeastern seaboard. The five hundred year old Dutch colonial home was beautifully restored to its near original state. White, clapboard siding decorated the exterior, accented with stone and cedar shake.

The home's wraparound porch was adorned with hand-carved eaves. Ivy was wound around the white pillars and lattice work, giving it a romantic effect during the spring and summer months. Ornate, hand-crafted benches and rocking chairs were strategically placed here and there along the porch's expanse. Gneiss stone steps lead up to a set of lovingly restored antique front doors, originally carved from local oak trees. Lead pane glass accented the doors and provided a glimpse into the warmly lit, inviting foyer.

The property was simply, but tastefully landscaped with flora and fauna native to the area. The garden beds that hosted expansive rows of hydrangea, and various species of roses and lilies which bloomed in bright, colorful shades of blue, yellow, pink, white, and red during the summer were now dormant until spring. Small pines, holly, and other evergreens now took their turn in the spotlight.

Inside the home, fluttering about the traditionally decorated, but updated with the latest technology, kitchen, Quatre Raberba Winner set about cleaning and preparing for the large Thanksgiving feast that would take place that evening. He had sent the estate's staff home the day before with a generous salary bonus to spend the holiday with their own families. They would return to work the following Monday.

Humming obscure holiday tunes to himself, he cheerfully wiped Duo's fingerprints off the stainless steel surface of the refrigerator and checked his watch. The guys would hopefully succeed in bringing back a nice, plump turkey within the next couple hours.

Entertaining himself with the memory of this morning's antics, he proceeded to the walk-in pantry located next to the fridge to gather various ingredients for the many dishes that would be concocted on this day. Whipped potatoes and homemade gravy, rosemary seasoned bread stuffing, cranberries, collard greens, sourdough knots, candied yams, pumpkin pie, sweet potato pie, mincemeat pie, bread pudding, roasted asparagus with almonds, and of course the pièce de résistance, the turkey. Overkill? Maybe. But this was a special occasion. It was the first time they were all gathered together, in peacetime, for the sheer enjoyment of it. And Quatre was going to make sure everyone had a memorable time.

He’d been so happy when he found out all of his closest friends would be coming to the estate to spend the holiday with him and Trowa. It would be noisy and chaotic at times, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

His partner and best friends had already set off to snag a bird that would become the centerpiece of their Thanksgiving table. Quatre wasn't sure who he should be more worried about, the birds, or his friends. The morning had started off with the usual shenanigans that often accompanied them when the five of them spent any significant time together. Off the clock, that is. And when they had a mission, well…Gundam pilots never did anything half-assed.

 

*******

 

Trowa's alarm went off at promptly four thirty. Normally, Quatre would have groaned, rolled over, and shoved a pillow over his head, but this was no ordinary morning. This was the day he’d been looking forward to for weeks. He propelled himself out of bed, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, leaving a rumpled and fondly smiling Trowa in the wake of his exuberantly flung sheets and blankets. Trowa extracted himself from the bed at a more leisurely pace and padded to the adjoining bathroom, his blue flannel sleep pants low on his narrow hips.

With no shirt, his broad shoulders and muscular back were on full display, the light from the moon outside the window casting a bluish glow to his skin. Despite leaving the circus a few years ago, Trowa successfully maintained the strong, sinewy body he’d developed from years of acrobatics and hand-to-hand combat. He drove to the beach every morning at low tide and ran five miles along the sprawling sandy ocean side as the sun rose above the Atlantic's horizon. He retained his powerful physique with the hard, manual labor of carpentry, chopping trees, and splitting firewood.

Quatre would shamelessly watch through the window of their utility room as Trowa, shirtless and sweaty, repeatedly brought the heavy ax down onto every log and then lugged the firewood either to the shed behind the house, or to his truck where he would take it into town and distribute it to the various businesses that sold it to the local residents and the seasonal visitors. Quatre would then jump his bones the moment he stepped in through the back door despite his protests that he was in dire need of a shower. Quatre liked him that way and the sex was always deliciously rough. Rugged and heady. The pheromones, the streaks of dirt on golden skin, the flush of Trowa’s skin from the increased blood flow and endorphins driving him into a frenzy.

As Trowa stepped into the bathroom to pee and shower, he glanced knowingly over his shoulder and smirked at Quatre who had stopped to admire the sight of his husband. Quatre ceased his mental ravishing of Trowa’s godlike body and briefly met smug green eyes, blushing and smiling when he realized he was busted. Trowa winked at him and proceeded into the bathroom, though he made a show of hooking his thumbs into his waistband and swinging his hips from left to right, followed by a smoldering look as he closed the door with excruciating slowness.

Quatre's eyes narrowed, thoughts of exacting revenge later that evening simmering in his mind. Two could play that game.

He was surprised to find the kitchen already brightly lit when he got there. Wufei had beaten him to making the tea and a large pot of coffee was also brewing, filling the room with the aromatic scent of Arabic gahwa. Wufei, who’d learned to brew the Middle Eastern coffee specifically for Quatre’s visits, was seated on a stool at the counter sipping hot Earl Grey and pointedly ignoring the groaning American slumped over beside him. Duo's head was flat against the counter top. His long hair still unbraided and tousled from sleep. He was moaning about the ungodly hour Heero had insisted they wake up at and declaring that no amount of high priced coffee could justify this inhumane treatment.

The focus of Duo's chagrin was seated at the small kitchen table located in the nook that offset the kitchen, his laptop opened in front of him. He was meticulously going over the Thanksgiving “itinerary”, jotting down notes and prioritizing each task. Duo guffawed when he'd looked over Heero's shoulder the night before to see that he had indeed crafted a finely detailed schedule of the day's events. Each of them assigned specific duties, when to do them, and how much time they were given to complete them. Heero's hand had shot out, planted itself against Duo's face, never breaking his focus from his computer screen, and shoved him away. Duo then rolled his eyes and shuffled out of the room, grumbling about mission-obsessed perfect soldiers with an uncanny knack of sucking the fun out of even the most joyous of occasions. He may have also said something about Heero needing to get laid.

"Good morning, guys," Quatre chirped as he stepped into the kitchen, his fuzzy slippers scuffling along the ceramic tile.

A collective grunt was the only response, but Duo did manage to turn his head to the side, peering through mussed bangs and bleary eyes at the inexplicably chipper blond. "Quat, kindly tell our dear friends here that waking us up at four thirty in the morning is cruel and unusual punishment."

"Shut up, Maxwell", Wufei growled through clenched teeth. He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, the sigh of a man at the end of his rope, whistling past his lips. "You've been complaining non stop for the last twenty minutes."

"But this is my vacation,” Duo whined, hunching over as if he were in physical pain. “I don't know what you do on your vacations, Chang. That is, if you even take any, but when I take a vacation, that means sleeping until noon, followed by some leisurely time in the john, if you know what I'm sayin'. Then, a lovely greasy breakfast for lunch, five hours of the sports channel, gorging myself on nachos and beer, and finally, a little nookie with the ol’ ball and chain,” he leered, waggling his brows at Wufei who’d turned a sickly shade of green.

"For your information, Maxwell, I do take vacations, but they do not include the partaking of gluttony, sloth, perversion, or disgusting bathroom habits."

Duo offered him a look of faux sympathy. "Then you have yet to live, my friend."

Wufei tipped his nose up and sniffed. "I have lived quite precariously, if I do say so myself."

Duo propped his cheek up on one hand, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Damn, Chang, but you're sexy when you use big words."

Wufei scowled and picked up his tea. "I'm going to go get ready. I trust you'll summon me when I'm needed, Yuy?"

Heero replied with a distracted grunt and went back to his typing.

"Right.” With a final glare in Duo's direction, Wufei strode out of the kitchen towards the stairwell, nodding an amicable greeting to Trowa as they passed each other.

Trowa entered the kitchen just as Quatre was in the process of gently scolding Duo about giving Wufei a hard time, though it wasn’t very effective considering they were both laughing. The blond was standing at the stove, preparing two cuppas for himself and Trowa while Duo made grabby hands at the coffee pot just out of his reach, but making no real effort to get off his ass and pour himself some.

Trowa pecked his husband on the cheek and glowered when the braided man cooed at them. He reached over Quatre’s head and opened the cupboard, pulling out a mug and filling it with rich, black coffee. Then he stood in front of Duo with the mug in hand. When Duo reached for it, with an added flair of melodrama, he pulled the mug back, just out of his reach. Duo uttered a soft growl and Trowa offered the mug again and again pulled it back just before he could grab it.

"Damn it, Barton! Don't make me kill you!"

Trowa smiled charmingly and handed it over. Duo greedily took it and slurped noisily, murmuring rather perverse sounds of pleasure.

"Q-babe, have I told you lately how much I love having such a disgustingly rich best friend who can afford all the finest things in life?"

"Er…yeah, Duo. I think you have. About seventeen times since you got here yesterday, if my memory serves."

"Good." Duo nodded solemnly as if Quatre knowing that was a serious matter.

Trowa flicked him in the side of the head on his way over to the table where Heero was sitting, picking up the paper the other man swiped off the porch when he'd first come downstairs, and lowering himself into the chair across from him. He absently stared at the corporate insignia engraved on the laptop’s lid and sipped his tea. He and Heero always had an intimate understanding of each other and could spend numerous hours in companionable silence together. Something the more extroverted Quatre and Duo could never relate to, or handle without getting apprehensive.

"Jesus, Yuy! How long is this itinerary of yours?" Duo had swung around on his stool and was staring at the man who’d been tapping away on his keyboard in a rapidly steady rhythm for the better part of ten minutes.

"Long enough to keep you from driving everyone crazy, I hope."

Duo scoffed and spun back around with a muttered, "Touché."

"Shouldn't you be getting ready, too?" Heero finally looked up from his screen with questioning eyes.

Duo patted his belly. "I need food first. A man's gotta eat if you're going to be working us to the bone, y'know?"

"I'm on it." Quatre unhooked two skillets from the hanging pot rack suspended above the kitchen’s island and swung open the fridge door to fetch eggs and bacon.

"Quality guy you got yourself there, Tro," Duo said, jerking a thumb in Quatre's direction.

"I know."

"Oh shush, you two." Quatre’s face was a fetching shade of pink, but the corners of his mouth curled up just enough to display how flattered he was.

"Are we heading for the shed?" Heero was closing his laptop, much to Duo's relief. Just how much work was he planning on heaping on them?

"Yeah, if you're ready."

"I am."

They got up simultaneously, equally smooth and graceful, and then pushed their chairs in. Heero went to the coffee pot to pour himself a cup while Trowa headed for the utility room to get their coats. Bundled warmly, they headed out the back door to gather the items needed for their turkey hunt.

Duo ticked his fingers against his forehead in a salute, then slid off the stool and meandered over to Quatre, watching over the blond’s shoulder as he fried up a big pan of scrambled eggs and…

"Ugh, turkey bacon, Q? Really?" Quatre glanced at him sideways, but declined to comment, turning the bacon over, strip by strip. Duo shook his head.

"I love you, bro, but this no-pork habit of yours is bad for my digestion."

Quatre smirked. "Duo, you are bad for your digestion."

"That hurt, Winner."

He chuckled and pointed towards the now abandoned kitchen table. "Hey, make yourself useful and go set the table."

Duo pretended to be put out, slouching his shoulders and groaning as if he’d just been asked to perform some gruelling task. "Putting me to work already, I see." With a dramatic sigh, he crossed the kitchen to gather plates, glasses, and silver from the hutch and went about setting a table for five.

"Okay, I'm done."

Quatre surveyed Duo's work, grinning at the added spokesmodel gestures, and nodded, satisfied. "Okay, go get dressed and I'll have breakfast ready in a few minutes. You have a big job to do today."

Cheered by the prospect of hunting wild turkeys in the great outdoors, Duo bounded up the stairs, two at a time, up to the guest room he was currently staying in. Quatre winced as the loud slam of his door echoed throughout the house and let out an exasperated sigh that ruffled the fringe of his hair.

“Twenty four years old and he still hasn’t learned not to slam doors.”


	2. Double Bird Strike

An hour later, all the boys, sans Quatre, were gathered in the clearing just off to the side of the house. It was still dark, though the sky had brightened slightly from black to dark blue, illuminated by the full moon beginning to set in the west. The sunrise was still about thirty minutes away and the stars glittered like diamonds in the vast indigo canopy, clear and sharp in the cold, low-humidity atmosphere.

They were bundled in various shades and patterns of denim and flannel, worn in layers to ward off the chill. Their heads were covered with knit caps, hands protected by gloves, and feet kept warm in waterproof work boots which would be doubly helpful when the ground thawed and became muddy later in the morning.

It was the first time any of them had seen Wufei not in the traditional garments of his clan, or Preventers’ uniform. He’d emerged from his room in a pair of light blue jeans, an oversized red, yellow, and green flannel shirt with a blue high-collared shirt underneath. His shoulder length black hair was pulled tight into its usual ponytail, but he wore a red knit cap over his head. He trudged in front of the others like a man on death row, looking like a Chinese lumberjack.

It had taken approximately six minutes and sixteen seconds, and a smack upside the head from Quatre to finally calm Duo's hysterical laughter to mere snickers and breathy chuckles that sounded more like drunken hiccups.

Wufei had glowered and silently vowed to kill Duo in his sleep.

They were expected to recon in the clearing at o’six hundred hours and then rendezvous at o’eight hundred. There was a brief argument over how the much anticipated taking down of Thanksgiving dinner would pan out. Duo preferred a hands on approach, declaring he would wrestle the turkey to death with his bare hands. Trowa opted to decline informing him of the fact that wild turkeys were much tougher than their farm-raised counterparts, actually morbidly curious to watch such a scenario play out. Wufei insisted his sword would be the superior weapon of turkey doom. Heero wanted to shoot the turkey…with a pistol. Trowa, bless his heart, figuratively shot them all down and handed each of them a bow instead, hesitating when he got to Duo, and a bundle of hollow-point aluminum arrows tied together with narrow strips of leather.

The three novice bird hunters, satisfied with their respective weapons, were debriefed on the proper methods of bow hunting technique and safety, Trowa pointedly looking at Duo during the safety speech. Then they were off into the woods to, as Duo put it, "Wrangle up some grub".

Quatre watched from the window with a mixture of joy at witnessing what was sure to be a momentous bonding occasion, and a little apprehension because he knew how trigger happy they could be. He just hoped Trowa would be able to prevent any accidents. He did not wish to see them return home with arrows sticking out of various limbs and body parts. Chances were, it would be Duo, though he wouldn’t put anything past Heero either.

Shaking his head fondly, Quatre turned from the window and began to prepare the house for the arrival of the remainder of their guests.

Relena, Milliardo, and Lucrezia were expected to arrive at ten o'clock. Milliardo and Lucrezia would be bringing their five year old daughter, Mae. They were also expecting their second child in December. Quatre had insisted on turning the large first floor den into a makeshift suite for the expecting couple and their daughter as he did not want the heavily pregnant Lucrezia to have to navigate the long staircase. He’d purchased two beds, one large for the parents, and a child-sized one for Mae and worked tirelessly to make sure the room was as cozy, comfortable, and accommodating as possible.

Hilde, Dorothy, and Sally were expected about an hour later. Cathy and her husband had a longer trip, traveling from L3, and weren't expected until early afternoon.

Relena would be rooming with Heero and Hilde with Duo. Sally and Dorothy would bunk together in the last available upstairs guest room. And Cathy and her husband would take the master suite. Trowa and Quatre, giving up their room for the next two nights, would camp out in the small front sitting room which housed a queen sized pullout sofa bed. 

Quatre went about adding the finishing touches to each of the rooms. He made the beds and placed tiny chocolate mints on each pillow, vacuumed the carpets and stocked up the bathrooms with colorful soaps placed in a little dish on the counter and stocking them with clean, fluffy towels. By the time he was finished, the place looked like the featured article for Bed & Breakfast Monthly.

 

*******

 

A loud whoop outside startled him out of his culinary-induced concentration of making crust for the pumpkin, sweet potato, and mincemeat pies. Moments later, the front door burst open and Duo's voice bellowed, "Honey, I'm hooome!"

Quatre sent up a silent prayer that the spring-loaded door stoppers had held up under the assault and prevented a knob sized hole in the adjacent wall. Trowa would bitch for days about having to replaster it. He'd probably send Duo a bill for the cost of materials and labor, too.

Wiping his flour-coated hands on his apron, he stepped into the foyer to greet the returned hunters. He had no doubt they were successful. Trowa was an ace hunter, never failing to bring home a kill. With him leading the charge, they were guaranteed to have a big, juicy bird on their Thanksgiving table.

As he entered the foyer, Duo was standing in the doorway grinning like the Cheshire cat, his fists on his hips and chest puffed out with pride.

"I take it it went well?"

"You're darn tootin', Q-man! You should've seen me! I was like, ‘Pow!’ And then I was like, ‘Bam!’ Ain’t no bird in this here world that can escape the Great Shinigami." Duo punctuated his exclamations by pretending to shoot imaginary arrows all over the foyer.

"That's great, Duo! I'm so proud of you!"

"Thanks, buddy!" He beamed proudly as Quatre's obvious enthusiasm stroked his already swollen ego.

Wufei pressed in behind him, having to squeeze through the small space left by Duo’s body that still took up the majority of the doorway.

"Maxwell, would you mind making a little room for the rest of us?" He scowled as he kicked off his boots and shrugged out of his flannel. He tugged the cap off his head, pulling strands of black hair loose from his ponytail, and dropped it on top of the pile. Quatre took stock of his appearance and noticed his handsome face was streaked with dirt and there were leaves stuck in his hair.

"Wufei, are you okay?"

"I assure you I'm quite fine, Winner. Thank you for your concern. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to take a hot shower. I trust you won't need to use me as target practice again, Maxwell?"

"Duo!"

"What?! It was an accident, I swear! C'mon, Wufei, I said I was sorry."

"I know you did. Now, I just want to get through the rest of this day with what little dignity I have left. Is that too much too ask? Am I reaching for the stars here?" Wufei turned away to head up the stairs and that's when Quatre saw that his entire backside was caked in mud.

"Wufei, just leave your dirty clothes outside your door and I'll get them cleaned for you."

"Thank you, Winner, but at this point, I'd rather just burn them." He walked up the stairs without another word, taking his wounded pride with him.

Quatre turned an accusing glare on Duo who put his hands in front of him, palms outward in a placating gesture. "Quat, I swear it was an accident and I did tell him I was sorry."

"What the hell happened, Duo?"

He scratched his head, his eyes flitting to the side, unable to look the blond in the eyes. "Er…well, I was trying to get the feel for the bow, y'know? Those things are a real pain to get the hang of. Tro makes it look so easy. I was aiming for a tree, y’know, to get a little practice shot in. I…uh…well, the ground was uneven and I lost my balance and almost hit Wufei." He blushed and stared sheepishly down at his mud-caked boots.

"Duo, oh Allah!" Quatre would be lying if he said his heart hadn't just leaped into his throat. He pressed his hands over his mouth as he realized how terribly that could have ended.

"It's okay, though,” Duo insisted, his voice reedy with a desperate need to reassure him. “Trowa knocked him out of the way before it could hit him. Man, that husband of yours has some killer reflexes," he added, his expression one of deep admiration.

Quatre dragged his shaking hands up his face and through his hair, releasing a huge sigh of relief that no one had been hurt. Thank Allah for Trowa and his "killer" reflexes indeed. Damn, but he loved that man to pieces. He had to shake his head to clear it of all the horrifying possibilities, things that could have gone wrong. If Trowa hadn’t been there to react the way he did, their day would have turned out very differently.

They were Gundam pilots, the best of the best. And they’d almost been done in by a turkey hunting accident.

"Hey, Q, relax! Wufei's fine, okay? Yeah, it could have gone horribly wrong, but it didn't. We're all okay, okay? Please, I feel just horrible about it." Duo was flushed with mortification, turning pleading eyes on Quatre.

He let out a long breath and shook the last of the adrenaline out of his system. "You're right, Duo. I'm sorry. I'm so relieved that none of you were hurt."

Duo laughed suddenly. "Why are you sorry? I'm sorry! I'm pretty sure I gave all three of them a heart attack and now I just gave you one."

Quatre chuckled and pointed at his friend’s feet. "Take those boots off before you ruin my clean floor and come help me in the kitchen.” He shook his head and picked up Wufei’s discarded flannel, hat, and boots to take them to the utility room. “I just hope Wufei doesn't hold a grudge for too long.”

Duo waved a hand dismissively. "That uptight stick-in-the-mud loves me. He practically worships the wet cement I walk on. Just…don't tell him I said that." Duo glanced up the stairs and then turned and winked at Quatre, his sunny smile back in place.

Quatre snorted. "Duo, what would we do without you?"

He lifted his chin and looked down his nose at the blond in an attempt to appear regal, though in his current disheveled state, he looked more like a delusional hobo. "Oh…die of boredom, I suppose. You'd also be turkey-less on this fine Thanksgiving day, I might add."

Quatre grinned. "Oh, yes. That's right. You got one? Personally?"

"Yep! I bagged one and Tro got one, too," Duo informed him, his face radiating pride and Quatre was so happy for him, he pulled the man into a squishy bear hug, murmuring apologies when he heard Duo wheeze. "Careful now, Cat. Wouldn't want to make the wife jealous, and I sure as hell wouldn't want to piss off that big, strong husband of yours. Pretty sure he could snap me like a twig with his bare hands."

Quatre playfully punched him in the arm and stepped away with a laugh. "Are you going to give me a hand in the kitchen, or what?"

Duo froze with his finger pointed at his chest, mouth open in mock outrage. "First I hunt and now I must cook, too? This is blasphemous! I demand a recount.” When there was no sign of Quatre’s acquiesce, his expression softened into a warm smile. “Actually yeah, I'd love to, but I want to take a shower first. Wouldn't do for me to be all nasty and smelly when the ol' lady gets here, now would it?" He quipped and then spun on his heel and started up the steps in wool-socked feet.

"Oh, and Duo?" Quatre waited until he stopped halfway up the stairs and turned, looking down at him over the railing.

"You need to do something really nice for Wufei. You know, make peace. Let him know you don’t actually want him dead."

Duo grinned. "Don't worry your pretty blond head, Cat,” he said and continued on up the stairs, his voice trailing off the farther away he got. “I know just what to do…”

Quatre’s face twisted a little, not sure if that was a good, or bad thing and wondered if perhaps he should warn Wufei, just in case.

Despite his loaded down arms, he managed to grab a hold of Duo’s boots, holding the heavy things tightly with two fingers and a thumb and cursed when dried mud dropped onto his spotless tile floor.

_Slam!_

“And would you stop slamming the damn doors?!”


	3. Dressings and Amends

With the pies baking in the oven and Duo getting ready for his wife's arrival, Quatre pulled on his parka and ventured out to the shed to see how Trowa and Heero were fairing. It was still cold, but the sun was thawing the frost rather quickly and he winced as his boots sunk into the wet mud beneath his feet.

He found them both standing at the small dressing table that stood against the far wall of the shed with the dead birds laid out on top of it. Trowa was in the process of teaching Heero how to field dress them and prepare them for Quatre's roasting pans. Heero listened with rapt attention, his fingers twitching in eagerness to get started. Quatre stood in the doorway for several minutes watching them, his heart swelling with love and affection. Once again, he sent up a silent prayer, this time for his beloved husband and best friends in the hopes that things could always be this way, finally at peace and getting a second chance at the life they deserved. He blinked his tears away before he lost control, berating himself for being so emotional.

Sensing his presence, Trowa turned away from his riveted protege to raise a questioning eyebrow at his husband, the concern in his eyes as clear as the crystal blue sky.

_Is everything okay?_

He smiled with a reassuring nod and Trowa returned the gesture, shifting his body sideways so that Quatre could see what they’d brought home. There was a turkey, a pretty sizable one, but the other bird was definitely a pheasant. Quatre choked on a squeal in his excitement. Pheasant was his favorite and it was such a rare treat, elusive birds they were. The corners of Trowa’s mouth curled up as he observed his husband's predictable reaction and Quatre wanted nothing more than to launch himself at him, cling like a baby monkey, and kiss the smug right off his face.

Trowa’s beauty was even more pronounced after a successful hunt. He always returned with flushed skin, red lips, and windblown hair, looking like a buff Davy Crockett sans the stupid raccoon hat. His eyes were glassy and his pupils dilated from the exhilaration of the chase. Quatre licked his lips and turned to adjust himself, blushing from arousal and embarrassment in the face of company.

"Am I interrupting something?" Heero deadpanned from the other side of the table.

The two guilty parties jumped at the interruption and blushed twin shades of pink. Quatre focused his attention on the partially plucked carcasses on the table, the gruesome display successfully draining the blood from his nether regions, and cleared his throat. "How did it go?"

"It went." Heero turned back to the birds and idly picked up a dark feather, twirling it between his thumb and forefinger. "I assume Duo has been bragging since he walked in the door?"

"Of course."

"Did he tell you what else happened?"

"Yes."

"Is Wufei alright?"

"Yes. Humiliated, but otherwise fine."

"So what's Duo doing? Not taunting him, I hope."

"No. He feels really bad about what happened. He's in the shower right now. So is Wufei. Duo's supposed to help me in the kitchen when he's done. I don't know what Wufei's plans are."

Heero stopped his studious plucking and turned back to Quatre, his expression adorably clueless. "Shower?"

Quatre nodded slowly, not sure what the confusion was about. "Yes…?"

Heero stared into middle distance for a moment, deep in thought. "That's…not on the itinerary for another three hours,” he informed them and then he went back to plucking the birds without another word.

Quatre gaped at him and then glanced at his husband for a little assistance. Trowa shrugged helplessly, at a loss himself. He did offer Quatre a lopsided smile that seemed to say, _It’s Heero,_ as if that explained everything.

Right.

"Right. Okay, well…I'll leave you two to finish up here." He crossed the room in a few quick strides, grabbed his husband's face in both hands, and pulled him down to kiss his wind-chilled lips, shivering a little at the shock of cold. When he pulled away, Trowa seemed reluctant to let him go, watching him with an almost desperate hunger. He winked one bright eye, spun on his heel, and sashayed out of the shed, high on vindication.

Payback was a bitch.

 

*******

 

They all took a brief respite in the great room at the anterior end of the house. The room was exceptionally large with a two story ceiling. Skylights and long beams made of cedar accented the sloping ceiling and arched floor-to-ceiling windows lined the back of the room and overlooked a multi-level stone patio. Just beyond the property's yard was the coniferous edge of one of several woodlands in the area. Bird, butterfly, and squirrel feeders dotted the landscape as well as tasteful yard ornaments made of stainless steel, wrought iron, and glass, each one sculpted by none other than Quatre’s loving hands.

At the edge of the forest, a salt lick stood on a wooden post, the block of salt covered in deep grooves, indicating that several deer had already come for a visit. There was a large vegetable garden off to the right, surrounded by chicken wire to keep the local wildlife out. In the fall, Trowa and Quatre would harvest corn, lettuce, spinach, kale, peas, beans, carrots, tomatoes, onions, turnips, eggplant, squash, pumpkins, and various kinds of herbs.

A row of apple trees outlined the far southern edge of the yard, their leaves and some stray apples blanketing the ground beneath them. There was a small retention pond at the very back of the clearing and wrapped around from the property's northern side. In the winter, Trowa, Quatre, and their visitors would spend hours skating on the pond's frozen surface before heading inside to warm up with a cozy fire and hot cocoa with a splash of spirits for extra measure. In the summer, it was a frequent meeting place for ducks, geese, swans, and other native birds that would stop by for a quick swim and a hearty meal of carp and catfish.

In the home's great room, a wall-sized video screen was showing the 293rd annual Macy's/Catalonia Thanksgiving Day Parade. Brightly colored floats decked out in cheerful holiday themes traveled down Sixth Avenue, flanked on either side by delighted New Yorkers and tourists alike. Parade participants strolled alongside the floats in outrageous costumes, waving to enchanted children perched on their parents’ shoulders. In the background, excitable network anchors announced each theme and provided the viewers with a brief backstory of their origins, interspersed with the sound of high school marching bands, blaring age old Christmas tunes from their trumpets, clarinets, flutes, and drums.

Trowa was lounging in an oversized leather chair with his husband tucked contentedly against his chest. Quatre was hypnotized by the parade, his glittering blue eyes fixed on the screen, unblinking. Heero occupied the opposite chair, a book in hand, sipping coffee from a red mug decorated with little white snowflakes. Like Quatre, Duo was also mesmerized by the parade. He was sprawled out on his stomach at one end of the giant sectional sofa, his chin propped on one of the couch's arms and his socked feet swaying back and forth in the air. Wufei was sitting in a nearby rocker, eyes closed. He was either sleeping, or meditating, none of them could ever tell which.

Half an hour earlier, Quatre had walked past one of the windows and stopped short when he noticed a plume of smoke rising into the sky. Standing on either side of the limestone fire pit that was located near the edge of the patio were Duo and Wufei, staring at each other intently through the haze of burning maple wood.

Duo had been holding what appeared to be a can of butane lighter fluid and a box of fireplace matches in one hand and a bundle of fabric clutched in the other. Upon closer inspection, Quatre could see the red, yellow, and green plaid flannel that Wufei had worn to hunt that morning, and what looked like his denim jeans as well. His mouth quirked up as Duo then handed the garments to Wufei, his expression solemn as if offering his first born child to a vengeful God. Wufei watched him suspiciously, not sure if he was being played.

It took some gentle cajoling on Duo’s part to convince him to take the offered bundle and with a final cautious glance at the sheepishly smiling man, Wufei dropped the mud-caked clothing into the fire. Duo handed the lighter fluid over and watched as Wufei squirted it onto the fire, leaning back slightly as the fire roared violently for a brief moment and then settled back down again. They both stood in quiet solidarity, looking like mourners at a burial as the flames wrapped their burning tendrils around the jeans and flannel.

Duo graced Wufei with a cheeky grin and a thumbs up and turned to head back into the house, respectfully giving the other man a moment to himself. Wufei stared at his retreating back, his expression one of confused amusement before he returned his attention to the fire to witness the last of the cursed garments being reduced to ash.

And Quatre couldn't be completely sure, but he thought he saw Wufei subtly flick his wrist at the fire, his middle finger ghosting up so quickly that Quatre thought it might have been his imagination, before it curled itself back into his palm.


End file.
